


Indulgence

by Yalu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Mythology, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bonding, Family, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Odin is an awesome parent, Sleipnir is as mischievous as his mommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:33:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yalu/pseuds/Yalu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>Bonding!fluff between Odin and Sleipnir.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>"You missed your breakfast time again. The stable master is starting to worry about you."</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>The replying snort was distinctly sarcastic.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> A reaction to all the AwfulFather!Odin stories out there. And because silly!Sleipnir is a lot of fun.

Odin smiled as he stepped into the stables, the bustle of activity making it easy for him to pass by unnoticed, and his plain, worn riding clothes helped him blend in with the staff who were sweeping the floor and feeding the animals. Most recognised him anyway, of course, and bowed their heads as he passed, but they kept on working, too used to their king's habits by now to worry that he might take offense. Some of them smiled at him, and one lad offered a bundle of fresh carrots and a bag of oats. Odin accepted the first but waved off the second – there was no point in wasting perfectly good food on a doomed endeavour. The lad grinned knowingly and scampered off, and Odin chuckled. No, there was no need to hide from his staff. Sleipnir, on the other hand...

Sleipnir was a very... shall we say _entitled_ creature. With mostly good reason, of course – no grandson of Odin's deserved less than the best even if he wasn't the finest, most magnificent horse in the realms – but that wasn't to say he always wore it gracefully. Between the pampering of stable hands and that he'd chosen Thor, of all people, to be his role model (Loki was still in denial about that), the young stallion's ego was quickly becoming unmanageable.

His surroundings, Odin decided with a muffled snort, were no help at all. The stall ahead had once been three, and was draped and stuffed with luxuries that made every other part of the stables look like a neglected woodsman's hut. To some degree it was fair enough; as a foal Sleipnir had lived in the palace until it became too uncomfortable, but he'd refused to move into the dull, dark stables until they felt a little more like home. There had been no harm in bringing along the feather blankets he'd already been using, after all, and if he'd asked to keep the large stuffed bilchsteim that had once been his uncle's, what of it? The first night he'd slept here he'd had nightmares, and Loki had practically moved in himself for a few months just to soothe them. There was nothing wrong with a little extra comfort for a child.

But the silk cushions were too much. So was the rose-scented wash water and the strings of bells and chimes hanging from every rafter. Dear Frigga was responsible for at least half of this, Odin was sure, but he'd decided long ago not to ask. The extra-large books enchanted to turn pages on command had been Loki's idea. The array of toy swords was Thor's.

And standing in the middle of this frippery, all eight legs shod with steel only because solid gold was too soft to run in, was Sleipnir, still sleeping, completely oblivious to the activity around him. Odin chuckled fondly and shook his head. 

Pushing the stall door open carefully and avoiding all the chimes, he approached his grandson. The large hip-high table that his hay was served on was piled high, and Odin leaned back against it for a moment, just watching the boy sleep. He really didn't seem to be faking it. Odin coughed. 

Sleipnir woke up with a jolt. He skittered backwards, startled, then caught sight of his grandfather and calmed down. He stepped closer and nickered a greeting.

"Sleeping in again, are you?" asked Odin.

He snorted – of course not.

"It's well past noon."

He glanced over Odin's shoulder and down the hall to the main doors, which had been thrown open wide for the breeze and sunlight. Another snort. So what?

Odin gestured to the hay stacked up behind him. "You missed your breakfast time again. The stable master is starting to worry about you."

The replying snort was distinctly sarcastic.

" _Loki_ will be worried about you."

Sleipnir paused, considering this. Odin reached up and pulled grass some loose from the bale behind him, sniffed it and offered the handful. "It's the best there is."

The boy sighed, stepped up and stretched his neck past Odin's ear, biting into the bale–

"Good lad."

–and tugged hard until a chunk of hay came loose and tumbled onto his grandfather's head. He neighed loudly, laughing, and scuttled off to the other side of his suite. Odin sighed and began to finger-comb the mess from his hair. 

"You can't keep doing this, you know."

Sleipnir laughed again and nudged a string of bells with his nose. Why not? He didn't like hay. Too boring.

"We don't always like the foods we must eat, but without them we will become weak and ill. You do want to be healthy, don't you? To be able to run faster than all the others?"

Sleipnir pointedly flicked his head towards Odin's hand and the carrots held loosely in them. Odin followed his gaze and feigned surprise. "Oh, these? What about these?"

An irritated grunt. Did Odin think he was stupid? He leaned forward to take one– but Odin pulled them back. 

"These aren't for you. Certainly not for breakfast."

An indignant snort. Then why bring them?

"Oh, they're for _me_ ," said Odin, and he smiled and took a bite. Sleipnir neighed in outrage. 

"Sorry, what?"

He snorted. He'd made himself perfectly clear. 

"And it's about time you learned you're not always going to get what you want. No, not even if you make that face at me..." Odin paused, pinned by big bright eyes that looked so lovingly up at him, as wide and adorable as the boy could possibly make them. He'd had practice. But Odin shook his head and said, "No, really. It won't work."

Grunting, Sleipnir gave up. He turned away and picked up his stuffed bilchsteim with his teeth, moving it from one set of cushions to another for no apparent reason. Odin shrugged and took another bite of carrot¬– then jumped as Sleipnir dropped the toy, swung back and bit the rest right out of his hand.

The crunching sounds that followed were very loud and very satisfied. Odin stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "You are a cheeky boy!"

Sleipnir swallowed the rest and whinnied cheerfully. 

"Don't you dare think you're getting any sugar today," warned Odin.

The boy blew out a breath through his nose, unconcerned. He'd won this round, hadn't he? 

Amused, Odin patted his neck and began to lift the heavy blanket from his back. Sleipnir fussed until he'd folded it just right, and put it away in _that_ corner, not that _other_ one, then walked over to the shelf that held his many combs and brushes and looked back pointedly at Odin.

"You do realise how spoiled you are, don't you?"

Yes, of course he did. So what?

**Author's Note:**

> I might continue this, and if so it'll be in two or three parts.


End file.
